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Aspects of Clef

19 Sep 17 | Re: One of my faves | Link-U-Post

Superb news this week for Wyclef Jean fans: Wyclef has released his first album in eight years, The Carnival III. And almost as good news for fans of this blog, since that release has inspired my first post in roughly the same amount of time.

The bad news is that I’ve listened to the album and, sad to say, this is the first album of his that isn’t doing it for me*. Even the deliberately niche Welcome to Haiti had a fair bit in it to delight me (through novelty, wanton absurdity or occasionally, good songs), but this Carnival III just doesn’t seem to be the Wyclef I know. As foreboded by the April Showers mixtape a few years ago, Clef seems to have settled into a kind of elder statesman idiom that’s become his default sound: drum machine, guitar, mournfully sung meandering half-tunes, a lot of soul but not much pop, snap or crackle. That doesn’t account for all of the album, but even the collaborations and genre-hops seem to lack the spark that I would expect. Sad!

So rather than dwell on exactly what I don’t like about this new one, I thought I’d chat about some of the things that made me such a fan in the first place. Here, and without recourse to the hits because I don’t need them, is my guide to the many aspects of Clef. Spotify playlist embedded at the bottom.

• Wyclef the hip hop livewire — It was hip hop that brought Clef into the music business so it’s no surprise that he’s good at making it, despite the enduring perception of him as the guy who stands behind Lauryn Hill saying "one time". For me Wyclef excels at bringing a scattershot energy to his rap tracks - take Anything Can Happen (The Carnival) where he starts off having a bath and ends up partying with his gypsy kidnappers, or Party To Damascus (Preacher’s Son) where he just about keeps afloat in Missy Elliot’s tide of insanity. Both those tracks have a sense that there’s no going back, the music an unstoppable force that drives you into Clef’s world.
• Wyclef the spitter of fire — As well as mania, Clef can also do calm intensity. 80 Bars (Masquerade) and Warrior’s Anthem (From The Hut...) are two showcases for this: he might lack dexterity, but he makes every word count and has an arresting way with a metaphor, plus a religious quality that you rarely hear in rap...
• Wyclef the preacher’s son — ...which brings me to Wyclef’s more overtly spiritual side. This most commonly shows itself in heartfelt laments for the state of the world, and if that sounds like something you don’t want to hear, why not reserve your cynicism and consider that it might be possible to try to make a song that says something and succeed in the attempt. Bob Marley would be the model here. Take Class Reunion (Preacher’s Son), on promising lives gone astray, or Gunpowder (The Carnival), on the unending cycle of violence. Understated, clear-eyed and quite beautiful.
• Wyclef the student of the old school — In interviews Wyclef never stops banging on about Quincy Jones and Carlos Santana, but he’s not just name-dropping: he has a real respect for previous generations of musicians. Earth, Wind and Fire (on Runaway, from Ecleftic) and Patti Labelle (on Celebrate, from Preacher’s Son) are two stand-out collaborators and Wyclef gets the best out of them.
• Wyclef the roper-in of random legends — Of course, Wyclef’s phone book doesn’t just have RnB legends in it. A Wyclef album wouldn’t be a Wyclef album without a really surprising name popping up - take Paul Simon on Fast Car (Carnival II) or Cyndi Lauper on Slumdog Millionaire (From the Hut...). And more often than not, as in these two cases, the results are quite different from what you’d expect from either artist.
• Wyclef the cover absurdist — Part of loving an artist is embracing their flaws, which Clef gives fans ample opportunity to do. There’s no denying his ego, and one of its strongest manifestations outside the political world has been the ability to ignore the inner voice that must be telling him "no, don’t cover that song!" In some cases he just about pulls it off, so I’m hoping you’ll all find something to enjoy in his unique interpretations of Oh What A Night (Masquerade) and La Bamba (Welcome to Haiti).
• Wyclef the gleeful lothario — The above couple of points have hopefully established that ridicule is nothing to be scared of. That "what am I listening to" feeling is also often present when Clef discusses the ladies, but if you go with it you’ll surely enjoy the girlfriend-poaching anthem Thug Like Me (Masquerade). I also want to mention the relatively recent collaboration with the Knocks, Kiss The Sky, which is just lovely, but has a bit of that same glee in the verses.
• Wyclef the righteous jah warrior — Back to the more serious stuff, but still with a potential undercurrent of absurdity, we have Wyclef in full-on reggae-spiritual mode. Diallo (Ecleftic), about an unlawful killing by police, is sadly as relevant as it’s ever been, while Who Gave The Order (Preacher’s Son and mostly sung by Buju Banton) hits the mark in a more generalised way on the theme of injustice. Both strike a perfect balance between sadness and anger.
• Wyclef the voice of Haiti — Finally there’s Wyclef fully going back to his roots and singing in Creole. I expect this divides opinion but I personally love to hear it, so you should try Yele (The Carnival) and Nou Va Rive (Welcome To Haiti). He doesn’t do it that often, but there’s not much more moving in music than hearing Clef deliver a crie de coeur in his first language.

*STOP PRESS! I've just discovered that this is Wyclef's first album without his longtime co-producer Jerry Duplessis. Mystery solved. We miss you Jerry!

Posted by COLONEL BLUCHER at 21:46

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